Delirium
by Blaquerose
Summary: Ichigo did not dislike nightclubs. He hated them. If not for the alluring promise of a redheaded DJ, the night would have been completely wasted. RenjiIchigo, AU
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**** Much ado about nightclubs and older men**

Ichigo did not dislike nightclubs. He hated them. He wanted everyone to know that right off the bat.

"But, Kurosaki-_kuuun!!_" whined the redhead. She had let her bottom lip protrude a bit to display a cute pout that had little, if no effect upon the strawberry blonde. "Can't you have a _little_ fun with us tonight? Even Ishida-kun's coming!" She made a gesture toward Uryuu Ishida.

Uryuu chose this moment to clear his throat and occupy himself with the complicated task of pushing his glasses up high on the bridge of his nose, which was licked rosy pink. Ichigo regarded him briefly before looking back to Inoue, trying to be a pal and not to give his secret away. The young man did not need this little hint, he was well aware that Ishida was in the same standings as him on night clubs. However, his standing with Inoue was different. If it meant her brushing up against him as the music flared and the lights flashed, he would _very politely_ oblige to her request to go out.

"How did you convince Chad to go?" asked Ichigo, looking over his juggernaut companion carefully. His dark skin did not show embarrassment well, but it was still obvious in the manner of which Chad turned his head away and smirked slyly. As far as he knew, Chad had no romantic feelings for Inoue. Rethinking this, Ichigo realized it impossible for Chad to have feelings for her at all. He soon recognized the _real_ reason he wanted to go.

A smile from Chad was not uncommon. He smiled at the most naive pleasures (vanilla ice cream, cute and cuddly things of a furry nature) so much so that his face lit up like a happy child's when given a present with pretty, vibrant colored wrapping paper. A smirk was much more rare, and much more _lewd_.

_Older men._

"Alright, _fine._ I'll go to the damn club."


	2. Chapter One: Beckoning

**Chapter One:**** Beckoning**

_He had beckoned me to dance. When I say beckoned, though, you have to recognize that he was not really asking me. He was asking because he knew exactly what I wanted - all through fault of his own_

He had spun that record, knowing what it would do to me; all because he knew it would deliver my body to him. I knew, even as I let myself melt into the tempo and swing madly with the beat that it was surely over for me. I remembered the way he stared at me as wandered passed the DJ's booth, trying to escape boredom and migraine inducing atmospheres. It was not hard to catch his crimson-eyed stare out of the corner of my eye; he was making no attempt to hide his glances. When I looked at him, a brow quirked, or a scowl curling my lips like an angered mutt, he would only smirk and press the attentive earphone to his ear, chuckling as he continued to spin, stop, and mix records.

I knew his game, and I still allowed him to take me over.

Yet, I am still not sure what forced me to give in. The music was...overpowering. Techno rave music, some hip-hop and a few head-bangers delights mixed in as well. All three genres were guaranteed to summon up the moshing, glow-in-the-dark, cussing demons in any group of people locked in a room with no light, save the blinking blues, reds, greens, whites that dazzled and blinded the occupants (who were mostly drunken, high, and over tipping at the bar) at almost complete random. Warm bodies brushed against me, hands groping at every unexposed area they could think of, and a few they seemed determined to expose right there amidst the crowd. Warm breath all around me, causing humidity and hazes to pass over my eyes and irritate them. I suddenly became too hot in my cotton shirt. Too hot in my jeans. Too hot in my boxers. Too hot in my skin. I would have gladly killed to be back in my bed, above the covers with the window open and the fan on full blast. Sweat beaded and smeared on my flesh, making me feel sticky, dirty, and sinful, so that when he had called for me, I felt perfect for the job. Half wishing I were out of that stuffy building, and fully prepared to follow him wherever he wanted to lead me.

I was sick of this delirium.

Waiting for this night to be over and my friends to take me home, I was trying to ignore everything. Then, the music changed. I recognized the sounds to be computerized. It was techno; I had had no doubts. I looked up from my corner, far away from the speakers, yet they still pounded in my ears, making my temples throb. I was curious who had changed the song so quickly - mid song, as a matter of fact. I still heard screaming guitars echoing throughout the catacombs of my damaged eardrums. There, in the DJ's booth, he was staring at me. The redhead with the wild, pea cocked ponytail, impossibly styled hairline and tattooed face. He was not looking in my direction, not a glance at the orange-haired kid..._he was staring at me._

I flinched, but tried not to show it. As far apart as we were in the massive building - was it a nightclub? Or a mansion? Maybe it was an auditorium they had us locked up in? - I knew he could see my face, flushed now with more than heat and fatigue. I knew he could see me, because his smirk broadened to show pearly white Cheshire teeth.

_Come on_

_Baby, I want to party_

_Come on right to the dance floor_

_I want to swing the day off_

_And everybody's movin'_

_So come on, keep on groovin''_

_So if you want to party_

_Come on and move your body_

Those lips, not too plump, just perfect and kissable (_Ichigo!_ my mind raged, _Don't think things like that about jerks like him!_), mouthed the first two lines that the woman sang out through the speakers. "_Come on, Baby. I want to party._"

This song was unlike the others. It worked through me like an electric shock, but without the sudden black out and plausible death. I held myself together, paralyzed by his crimson eyes and grin. He knew what he was doing to me. I knew what he was doing to me. And what was worse…he knew that I knew my defenses would crumble eventually. Obviously, he had given me four minutes of techno hypnotizers to weaken my resolve. He found it amusing, that sick guy. I fought back the tapping in my foot and denied the swing that was building up in my hips.

_Come on and move your body_

_You body and your soul_

_So you can hear the DJ  
He takes you in control_

_So step into this beat now_

_That beat that makes you move_

_The movement gives you power_

_The power to the groove_

He gave the simplest of nods to me before turning his eyes down to his down to his records. His head had tilted toward the door leading out. I knew in an instant what he was trying to say, as though he had used that nod as a base for telepathy:

_My break starts when this song ends. When I step down, follow me out that door. Then we can really party._

He knew that was not a request, nor a command. He was not asking me to go with him; he was not telling me to go with him. He _knew_ I would. And, as angry and frustrated as that had made me . . . I knew I could not resist this stranger. He had chosen the song to pierce through the crowd and find me. When the song stopped - God, I don't even remember when I had begun to move with the beat until I felt myself being jostled with the crowd, moving with their flow - I watched him step down off of his pedestal and disappeared into the golden-lit alleyway that was quickly swallowed by blackness.


	3. Chapter Two: Delirium

**Chapter Two: Delirium**

_And when the song stopped, he had taken me out back and pressed me against the wall. He buried his face into my neck and he nibbled the flesh he had found there...And I moaned out, accepting his offer to dance_

I took off in pursuit of him, tearing through the crowd, throwing people out of my way like they were life-sized rag dolls. No one would mind - all of them too drunk or high to anything but reassume their meaningless conversations over the speakers as best they could.

A bang, and a rush of cold air that hit me like a fat lady. I blinked, turned away from it, and coughed as I stepped out and let the weighted door fall back into place with the delicacy of that same fat lady, only a few steps to the left.

It felt good to have the feeling of grimy hands off of me, though the cold, maybe-its-early-morning-maybe-its-late-night air did little to pull me down off of my high.

I was still delirious when the black-and red figure emerged from the shadows and furthered my fatigue by slamming me onto the red brick alley wall. Dots of purple and green littered my sight. I tried to shake them away, but it would only cause my head to spin further.

Somewhere in my jumbled haze of senses, I felt something hot and tender touch my neck. Soon, I found the sensation soft, and pleasant. It was his lips. Teeth nibbled the flesh, and chills sparked up and down my spine. I panted.

As quick as I could speak it, he had my pants around my ankles and my chest pressed against the cold brick wall. I would tilt my head forward and moan under breath; the cold felt good against my hot skin, and his fingers felt even better against my poorly exercised ringed muscles. He was quick about preparing me as well. However, as quick as he was about getting started, he was slow at pacing either of us.

I cannot recall the event clearly in my mind. All I remembered was my front was cold; my face was smashed against the wall as he slammed into my sensitive body with little remorse or inkling of putting rhythm to our motions for him or me. I remember crying out loudly, half in pain and half in amazed wonder. Soon, as my voice had begun to rival the soul-shattering music inside of that nightclub, my voice was lost as my mouth hung open in utter shock for the pleasure that was carrying through me like I was falling in mid-air. For minutes, I thought I would fall as he worked inside of me with such an irregular (but blessed!!) rhythm. Then, as he groaned as he pushed inside of me, he had triggered something within me ("_Deeper… Deeper…!! Thah-there!! Right there!! _Fuck_!!") _that caused my voice to crack against the strain of my screams.

When it was all over…when our pants had finally calmed down under the thudding bass that penetrated that alley wall and the soft buzz of electricity coming from streetlamps that gave us no consequence, I could still feel rivulets of our shared orgasm echoing through and out of my sore and worn body.

My drug – delirium – was fading. Nothing sustained me any longer. His warm body still lingered over me, still inside of me, though now half flaccid. His soft kisses littered my neck once more.

- - - - - - - -

Wihsh me a happy birthday today- I'm bringing you an epilogue!!

My rule is I don't upload until I get five reviews - so please review! Thanks.


	4. Epilogue: Come on, Baby, I want to party

**Epilogue****: Come on, Baby I want to Party**

_And when it was all over, I felt him all over me like dirt on my skin. I couldn't get it off no matter how hard I tried or wanted to. However… I had no desire to wash him off of my skin. I wanted him to linger with me, if only in the memory of my flesh. There, I would remember that dance. My first dance. Our first dance_

"Renji." I heard someone say. It was a voice deepened by passion. I tried once to get my voice out, but it refused to obey me. At my silence, the red-haired deviant stopped his ministrations on my neck. "My name. Renji."

"I…. Ichigo." I managed, my fists making their weak bearings on his slowly shedding shirt.

"Hn." He pulled away, yanking his shirt back upon his shoulders with a careless effort. "Nice name."

His dismount was sudden, and it knocked the rest of my energy out of me. I couldn't even move from my shamed spot against the wall save to sit upright and proper. I could not even adjust my pants to repair my modesty.

"Ichigo." Renji's red hair had fallen out of its ponytail and cascaded over his shoulders like a shimmering blood colored waterfall. He was pulling it back and fastening it with a rubber band. The bastard didn't even seem phased by what had happened, and I was on my last goddamn leg. "If that was your first time – and it sure as hell _felt_ like it – " my anger-and-heat flushed face reddened deeply with a new emotion, embarrassment " – then I suggest you sit for a while and I'll come to get you later. I don't live too far from here, y'know. I'm in the SS district."

"Keh…" my chest rose and fell with the motions of breathing, "Like hell. Take a…a hike, pineapple-boy."

With a subconscious tug at his hair, he smirked and walked inside with an aggravating swagger in his perfect hips. "Suit yourself, chickie-baby. I hope your friends remember you're out here." I could _hear_ the smirk on his voice." If you _got_ any with _that_ attitude."

_WHAM!_

" . . . "

The cold air did well to sober my up quickly and efficiently. Already, passion was pouring out of my veins and was replaced with anger and regret. Him and his damn song pierced me, and where had he left me?

In an alley. Pant less. Out of energy. Out of mind. Out of sorts.

And even when I closed my eyes, all I could see was his face. That dominating smirk as he played with my (if only minutes ago) glorious member. He knew just how to get me going. He could knead the sensitive flesh and run his fingertips along the underside, making me cry out like a virgin bitch in heat. It was pathetic. It was disgusting. It was degrading.

_God, I want it again…!!_ I burst into sobs upon my upturned palms.

I could not deny that with this shame and embarrassment came a perverse sort of pleasure that made my loins churn with guilt and – dear God – _desire._ It was eating away at me like a burning grain of sand would eventually erode at my insides. I had let him go. He offered me a bed and another shot at having him…_and I had let him go_.

The sounds of bass were still carrying through that brick wall, though all I wanted at that point was to go home and shower every touch, nibble, caress, kiss and fluid he left to remember him by off of me and into the darkest sewers of hell. My sobs mixed with the pounding "Da-na-na-na's" of the nightclub, and from this new beat of remorse and techno was born a new, yet all too familiar beat:

_Come on_

_Baby, I want to party_

Fin

- - - - - - -

Disclaimer: Bleach and its charectors do not belong to me

The song "Keep On Moving" and its lyrics do not belong to me (though I wish I could remember the name of the artist). The song appeared in Tokyo Drift. My sister let me listen to it, and I loved it so much, the above story made way into my brain.

I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing. Stories over, and thanks for all of your happy birthdays!

I really appriciate your comments, and I'm sorry if I didn't answer any questions. I'm surprised I found time to load this onto at all.

Thank you all!


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